Yet Another Potter
by Lissibith
Summary: So it's Harry Potter's sixth year and we find out there's another little girl named "Potter" going to start at Hogwarts this term. Is it Harry's long-lost sister? No. :)
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer. It's not my world, my locations or my magic system. It's all thanks to the wonderful author of the REAL Potter's life story. I owe her such a debt. :)

Darcie walked into Olivander's shop, clutching a small purse with the money her parents had given her for school supplies. Her parents had stopped to pick out her books from the list she'd received from school, but when she'd asked if she could please, please go ahead, they'd made mock shooing gestures at her. She hadn't needed any second urging and dashed off, barely avoiding a witch with a double armful of dubiously-folded clothes.

She'd never been alone in Diagon Alley before. She felt a little knot of fear in the pit of her stomach at first, but she'd been here often enough that she knew her way around, and quickly that worry turned into the youthful excitement that a new bit of trust and freedom from one's parents can give.

The fear returned though as she pushed open the weathered old door to the wand shop and stepped inside. Row upon row of wand boxes lined the shelves, which stood against almost every available foot of wall space. The lighting inside was dim, even though the day outside was bright and sunny.

Advancing slowly into the shop, fingers toying nervously with the little purse, Darcie called out, "Hello? Um, excuse me, is anyone…"

She trailed off as she heard someone walking somewhere out of sight. The sound grew, then an older-looking man walked out from a small hallway in the back she hadn't noticed when she first entered. Olivander, she guessed. He smiled. Darcie found the expression a little unnerving.

"And what can I do for you?" he asked politely.

Not thinking the question at all strange – though what else would one want to do in a wand shop but shop for a wand? – she said, "I'm going into my first year at Hogwarts, and I need a wand. Mum said you're the best person to talk to for that."

If the flattery or her cheerful tone had any effect on him, he didn't show it. He simply nodded and asked, "Name?"

"Darcie Alice Potter."

That got a reaction. Olivander, who had been taking a box down from a shelf above his head, nearly fumbled it. He managed to catch it and shove it back into its place on the shelf.

"Potter?" he said. "You couldn't be…"

"No," she said pleasantly. "No relation. Sorry."

He seemed to look a little relieved at that. "I see," he said. "You must get that a lot."

"All the time," she agreed. Olivander turned back to the shelves.

"Well, let's see. Eleven-inch rowan, I think. Perhaps with a hair from a unicorn."

Thirty minutes later, Darcie and her parents were waiting for a table for lunch and going over their purchases.

"So we got all your books, dear, and the wand, the robes, the cauldron," said her mother, Mary. "I'm sorry there's no money for a pet this year, but without a wand to buy next year, maybe we can get you one then."

"Or maybe a broom," Darcie suggested hopefully.

Her mother chuckled. "Let's wait and see how you do on a broom at school before we start thinking about getting one of those, okay?"

The two of them looked through the books while Jeff Potter, Darcie's father, stood in line to ask about getting a table. As he came to the front of the queue, the hunched woman behind the counter said, "How many?" Her voice rasped, as though before coming out her mouth it ran over a grated in her throat.

Clearing his own throat, Jeff said, "Uh, just three. How long will it be?"

"Ten minutes, dearie. What's your name?" came the painful-sounding answer.

Jeff hesitated, adjusting the collar of his shirt. The witch looked up at him with one good eye and one that rolled oddly and didn't seem to focus on him.

"Name? Or you change your mind?"

"Er…" he cringed a little as he said, "Jeff Potter."

The woman's eyes widened and she drew in her breath with a little gasp. "You mean-"

"No," he said flatly.

"But… everyone's heard of… I mean, we can get you right in," she said, tapping the little book in front of her with her wand. The page flipped so fast that had her hands been close enough, the paper's edges might have done her harm.

Jeff put his hands on either side of the book and leaned forward, bringing his very close to the woman – almost scarily so. "No," he repeated, enunciating carefully. "We are no relation. We are from an entirely different family. We happen to share a last name. That is all. It is hardly an uncommon occurrence in the world, for unrelated people to have the same last name. Now, how long before we get a table?"

The woman nodded hastily, and with another flick of her wand the page flipped back. "Of course, of course. I understand. Ten minutes," she rasped. Another small motion, and his name scrolled across the page at the bottom of the list. "And now… sir if it's not too much trouble, could I have an autogr-"

Jeff turned resolutely, muttering a quick, forced "Thank you" over the woman's request, and returned to his family. "You'd think Potter was an uncommon last name," he said as he settled into the chair next to his wife. "Don't people even think?"

"It's an easy mistake to make," Mary said gently. "It is the same name."

Her husband was warming up to his subject though, and said, "And next I suppose it'll make sense for everyone named Smith to automatically be related to that television actor over in America, right? And I suppose there must be only one Thatcher in the world. Goodness. Don't they think that if the boy who survived had some similarly-named relatives cavorting about, someone would have mentioned it before now? And I suppose they think our girl's his long-lost sister or some other rubbish."

Mary took his hand and gave it a brief squeeze. This seemed to help him get control of himself, for soon he was looking through books with his daughter and wife, telling Darcie about his years as a Ravenclaw, while Mary talked about the great friends she'd made in most of the houses, but especially in her own, Hufflepuff. Darcie seemed more interested in the sorting itself though than hearing about her parents' escapades.

Finally they had lunch, then gathered Darcie's many school supplies and headed out. As they walked, Mary and Jeff noticed another, similarly laden couple walking with a girl who looked to be about Darcie's age.

"First year?" Mary called over pleasantly. The young man carrying most of the bundles managed a weak nod, while the beautiful young woman with him said, "you too?"

"Yes, our first one," Mary said, nodding to Darcie who'd gone skipping ahead. The little girls stopped by one another and studied each other for a few seconds. The child of the young couple made the first move.

Formally, she said, "I'm Alexa Melanie Rowena Smith. Pleased to meet you."

Jeff Potter nearly choked as he tried to keep from laughing. The other three adults gave him an odd look.

The youngest Potter in the Alley ignored her father's lack of manners. "I'm Darcie Potter," Darcie said to Alexa, bobbing a quick curtsey. "Nice to meet you too. Are you excited about going away to school?"

But Alexa didn't seem interested in answering. Her expression slowly changed into an amazed look. "Potter? You mean like-"

"Nope," Darcie said cheerfully. "No relation."

"But…"

As the two girls walked down the street chattering, Mary put a restraining hand on her husband's arm to keep him from following them too closely. "Here we go again," she murmured to him, chuckling.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n – All previous disclaimers apply. Not mine. Even Darcie, Alexa and Alair aren't totally mine, as I've begged help on their backgrounds.

History bit 1. Darcie's parents both work. Her mother was a nurse at St. Mungo's, but since they decided to move out of the city, she assists a country wizarding doctor (No, she's not a witch-doctor. She's a witch-nurse). Her father works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, keeping an eye on things are reporting back to a number of the agencies. Think of him as a bit of a magical beat cop. He deals with little things himself, but in general reports back to the specialists.

* * *

Getting to the station had been much easier and gone much faster than Darcie had thought it would, and as she stood near the train at platform 9 ¾, with her mother fussing over her hair and her father talking animatedly with another wizard about petrifying jinxes, she started to feel a little anxious.

It wasn't the whole going away from home thing. She'd been away from home simply loads of times, but there was something different about this. It would be almost a whole year, except holidays, and there was the added threat… You-Know-Who was back. Her parents both insisted school was the safest place for her for that very reason, but she didn't like the idea of being so far from home when there was so much worry and danger.

"Darcie, look," her mother said. "Isn't that your little friend?"

Darcie turned her head, scanning the platform, and at last caught sight of Alexa rolling a baggage cart towards the tracks, following dutifully behind her parents. She wasn't paying much attention to them though. Even from where she stood, quite a ways down the station from the Smiths, she could see her friend looking around at the impressive station with something like awe – and nearly running her parents over several times with the cart. Eventually her father took over steering it.

Leaving both her baggage and her parents for the moment, Darcie ran towards the other family. "Alexa! Alexa, hello!" She had to shout to be heard over the din of the students and families all crowding onto the platform, waiting to board the train.

"Darcie! I wondered if I'd find you," Alexa said, greeting her friend with a hug. Then, unnecessarily, she added, "There's a lot of people here."

Darcie's parents followed over more slowly with the luggage cart. They talked with the Smiths, while Alexa and Darcie chattered about the ride and the school and what they thought, or hoped, would happen there.

"You know, they look so happy, but I can't help worrying," Mary Potter said quietly to Alexa's parents. Claire Smith nodded and a troubled look crossed her face briefly. Her husband put a hand on her arm.

"It'll be okay," Bryant Smith said. "They're safe at school."

Jeff gestured towards the other three parents. "Come on," he said, "Let's get them settled onto the train."

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

The girls found an empty compartment quickly… well, almost empty. There was a large pile of cloth on one of the seats, near the door. Darcie gave it a quick look, then dismissed it. Someone was saving a seat. She hoped they'd be nice, but there was still plenty of seat room.

They put their things away, hugged their parents, then settled into their seats, Alexa on one side and Darcie next to the pile of cloth on the other. Their parents stood in a little group on the platform, waving as the train pulled away ten minutes later. The girls returned the waves, pressing their faces to the glass until they could no longer see the small forms of their parents. Only then did they relax back into their seats, breaking unexpectedly into a fit of shared giggles.

Darcie has a small bag of sweets her mother had given her for the trip, and she offered some to Alexa, who accepted politely.

"Is this your first time away?" Alexa asked, looking at her curiously.

Darcie shook her head. "No, I have some relatives in France, moved there for a couple years. And I spent two years at boarding school before I got my letter to come here."

"Boarding school?"

"Yeah," Darcie said, nodding. "I caused a lot of trouble in my old school, so they sent me to this really nice place-"

"To try to fix you?" Alexa said skeptically.

Darcie laughed. "No, of course not. It was just to get me out of there. Everyone used to pick on me. They called me stupid."

"Ohhh," Alexa said, nodding sympathetically. "And things… happened?"

"Yeah."

"My mother told me about that," Alexa said, leaning against the seat back and looking up at the ceiling. "She said she kept expecting me to do it, with all the tantrums I used to throw… not that I throw tantrums, but mum overacts sometimes. But I never did any magic during them… when I was little."

A low sound from the folds of the overly long coat put a stop to Alexa's trying to defend her tantrums. Both girls looked over, falling quiet. After the initial sounds, which was muffled and short, the coat went quiet again. Slowly, the girls looked away from it and toward each other. Then they both started giggling again.

"Oh, I though… I thought for a minute something weird was happening," Darcie said between her laughter.

Alexa glanced briefly to the window to their space, then nodded. "Me too. But it's all right. It's bound to be someone… you. Hello, you? Come on, say hello at least."

She stood and prodded the coat gently with one hand. Another mumbling sound issued from it. The girls exchanged another look, then both girls moved to sit across from the strange pile of fabric. Darcie reached over and pulled back on the coat's lapel.

What was revealed, blinking owlishly in the sudden light, was the round, dour-looking face of a dark-haired boy. He looked from one of the girls to the other, then mumbled, "Whacha want?"

"Come on, don't be a mope," Alexa said. "I'm Alexa Melanie Rowena Smith. Who're you?"

Instead of answering, he stared at Darcie. "Whozat?"

"Darcie Alice Potter," Darcie said, doing her best to imitate Alexa's polished manner.

The boy apparently decided that he was now obligated to reply. Sighing, he shrugged his head and one arm free of the overly large coat, then extended a hand. "Alair Channing, son of Shea and Jenna Channing. Good ta meecha."

His voice, when he wasn't muttering, sounded a bit lilting. It reminded Darcie of the birds that used to sing around her home early in the morning. Smiling, she shook his hand, and a moment later Alexa did the same.

"So you're both first years?" he asked once introductions and handshakes had been completed. He was settling back into the seat, wrapping the coat once more around him. "Me too."

"How did you know?" Darcie asked, a little startled. She was used to magic, of course, but meeting someone who could read thoughts…

He shrugged. "What you were talking about before," he said. "She wouldn't ask a second year if it was her first time away."

"Oh." Darcie felt the warmth of embarrassment spreading across her face as an uncomfortable silence fell over the car. Darcie turned and looked out the window, watching the beautiful, green countryside flash by.

Alexa broke the reverie first. "I can't wait for the sorting," she said.

Grinning, Darcie said, "Oh, me either. Mum and dad talk about it so often. I'm starting to feel a bit scared through, up in front of everyone like that."

"It'll be all right," Alexa said confidently. "It's just a short few seconds, then you get to go sit with your house. I hope we get sorted together, Darcie. I've heard it can get hard to stay friends with people in other houses."

Darcie shook her head. "That's silly. Keeping friends is only as hard as you make it. We'll all be in the same castle. But I hope we're both sorted together too."

"I don't know what you're so excited about," Alair said, his voice almost comically deadpan. "We're probably all just going to die anyway."

Darcie's skin felt suddenly uncomfortable, and she shuddered. "Die?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

He barely moved, just continuing to stare at the pair of them as he spoke. "Well, You-know-who's on the loose. He'd like to get the Headmaster out of his way, bet you, and Harry Potter's a student here too, so it's like putting two honey pots by the front door - you're bound to get some bad things coming to visit." That said, he nodded once, knowingly, then settled back into his coat again.

Alexa shivered delicately. "It's not nice to say such terrible things," she said. "The Headmaster won't let things happen to us. We're perfectly safe at school."

This got only a shrug from Alair. He seemed to believe that since he'd said his piece, he'd done his job, and they could believe him or not.

Darcie tried to get him to talk a little more, but eventually gave up and turned her attention fully back to Alexa. The two were talking animatedly about going to quidditch games when the door opened again and a dark-haired young man peered in.

"Oh, sorry," he said raising a hand in greeting. "We were just looking for seats." He waved – this, it seemed, was why he'd raised his hand in the first place – then backed into the hall again. She caught sight of a pale-haired young woman and another young man before the door swung shut with a "click."

There was a momentary quiet in the little cubicle, then Alexa clutched at Darcie's arm and said, "Did you see him? He was so cute!"

"I guess," Darcie said, looking at the door where the stranger had been a few seconds before, then turning her attention back to her friend. "Wasn't he kind of old though?"

Alexa rolled her eyes. "Older is better, they're smarter," she said.

"But he must have been at least fourth or fifth year," Darcie said. She didn't honestly see what the fuss was about though. He looked like a boy with dark hair and glasses. She wasn't sure why, but she got the feeling he was very self-assured. Not cocky, but like her father – he knew what he knew.

Another line of mumbling came from Alair's huddled form, which had once more withdrawn into the oversized coat. Only his eyes and his slightly over-long brown hair showed outside its folds.

"What was that?" Alexa asked. Her tone was mostly polite, but Darcie could see some sort of irritation or indignation in the girl's face.

Alair shook his face free of the jacket, and said, "I said, stay away from him. Bad news."

"Bad news?"

"That was Mr. Harry Potter," the boy said, glancing furtively at the door as though he expected another intruder. "You-Know-Who is after him, you know, it's been in all the papers and one student died."

Darcie gave a frightened squeak. She'd been kept mostly away from all news of the person she'd generally heard referred to only as "the boy who lived." That had been him, in the same room? And He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was targeting him? How terrible must that be? She felt a rush of pity for him. But then…

"How did the student die?" she asked. Immediately after the question was out, she put her hands over her mouth and could feel the heat rising in her face.

Alair shrugged. "No one knows for sure. Wasn't his fault, Mr. Harry Potter's, at least my mum doesn't think so and I think I believe her from what I've read, but with something like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, just being too close to its target is enough to do for most people."

Darcie rubbed her hand over her arms, which felt suddenly cold. Just thinking about being near He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named seemed overwhelming. Actually being there…

She couldn't think about it.

Next to her on the seat, Alexa clasped her hands and stared vacantly at the ceiling.

"Wow," she said.

Darcie glanced at the ceiling, but could see nothing. "Wow?" she prompted.

"That," Alexa said in a breathy voice full of girlish fan-worship, "Was Harry Potter!"


End file.
